In the Absence of Belief, He Plays
by BonGarland
Summary: Short sequel to Lithasblot and Old Lace. In the several months following Hoder's defeat, recovery efforts have brought Darcy and Loki significantly closer. Now, on the eve of Christmas, a cosmos-wide summit is scheduled in Asgard. But a sinister being has his sights set on the attendees, and the duo must again solve a dangerous mystery before the clock runs out for the victims.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! Fall quarter is drawing to a close, and my spare time equals reading material for you guys! This is a brief-ish followup on the tail of Lithasblot and Old Lace, taking place during the Christmas season of the _next _year. Darcy's been in Asgard a while, and she and Loki are pretty cozy with each other now. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>Once, he had been feared.<p>

Grossly-embellished tales, spread far and wide and elaborated upon at every turn, spread through households in medieval Europe like wildfire, stoking his own ego in the process.

The black, curved claws were longer with each retelling, the red shade of the eyes more fiery with each teller's additions. And the punishments bestowed upon the children – they curdled the blood of listeners more with each rehashing.

Once, he had been Krampus, the night-dwelling counterpart of the one whom they called Santa Claus. The dark figure lurking in the shadows, the child-thief, devourer of juvenile mortals, balancer of behavior among peasants and royals for centuries.

And now? He was bored. Belief in him, as with so many things the mortals claimed to live by, was dwindling, found few and far between in this age that they dared call "modern" on Midgard. He was discarded, left in the closet of human memory, just as honor and chivalry had been.

It was his own fault, he supposed, choosing to prefer mortal children; but a change was needed, he thought. New meat. And he knew just where to get it.

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><p>"I just don't know if there's <em>enough<em>," called out Darcy Lewis, flipping a feathered quill through her fingers and biting her lip as she evaluated the massive sections of holly garnishing the halls of a wing of Asgard's palace.

"Milady, there is an equivalent of an entire Midgardian mile in each corridor and wing," began Kvasir, the equivalent of an executive assistant to the new Asgardian reign, and currently, Darcy's unwilling co-conspirator in a massive decorating scheme across the Palace and its grounds. "While Yuletide is indeed a highly-valued concept in our realm, I just do not think, in light of forthcoming events, that we need focus on such…frills…"

"Oh, I do love a chance to crack open the mead!" Bellowed a loud voice, approaching from the opposite end of the corridor.

"Volstagg!" Yelled Darcy, jumping into the bear hug awaiting her. When she'd pried herself loose with a rarity of only maybe _one _bruised rib, she rubbed at her side absently, pointing with the quill in her other hand to the decorations spread over the intermittent archways adorning each corridor. "D'you think it's…Christmasey enough?"

The husky warrior stood back, hand on his beard in an appraising gesture. "Hmm…I don't think I've ever seen this scale of, what did you call it, Christmas?" He clapped a large hand down on her shoulder, the mortal diplomat only wincing slightly at the impact. "Well done, Lady Darcy. _This _year, we'll have our spirit back."

Darcy's smile faltered a little at that, watching the warrior start to whistle a random tune as he continued down the corridor.

It was true, life in Asgard had been less than easy in the past sixteen months since Hoder's coup and subsequent downfall, and it had only been recently that Darcy herself had even recovered sufficiently, in her mind, to try to restore some cheer. Yule had provided the perfect excuse, and she'd quickly marshaled an army to harvest decorations and plaster them over any and all available surfaces within the palace. Holly sprigs, garland imported from Earth, wreaths made of fragrant lavender and rosemary, and other bits that could be found were promptly strung, hung, and pinned around the palace.

She was somewhat cautiously awaiting the verdict from the throne of Asgard, and she figured she didn't have long to wait. At least she had the pleasure of being right, the thought providing little comfort as a rustling sounded from down the hall and behind her, her ears by now knowing the sound of leather rubbing against woven fabric, and the jangle of sheathed daggers.

Kvasir paled a little at the expression on the trickster god's face as he approached Darcy from behind, and the human sighed, cinching her eyes closed with a quick grimace before swiveling on her feet, the quill lowered to her side and hitting her jean-clad thigh with a nervous staccato.

"Your Majesty," she said in a bored tone, sketching a curtsy that was probably more disrespectful than if she hadn't made a move at all.

Loki's glacial gaze was on the decorations as he came to a stop in front of her, eyes skyward even as he waved a dismissive hand at Kvasir. The little red-headed traitor promptly skittered away, a length of holly falling at his exit. Darcy glared at his retreat, darting over to re-secure the adornment.

"Lemme guess," she started warily, back still to Loki. "You don't like Christmas. Yule. Whatever. Maybe Hanukkah's your thing?" She ended hopefully, turning to find Loki had done that creepy teleportation thing and was now _right _up in her face, green eyes glittering with…something in their depths. She swallowed hard, trying not to fidget under the scrutiny.

"I was about to say I thoroughly approved," came the smooth accent from above her head, a cool hand reaching out to pluck at a ringlet draped across her shoulder. She brightened, just as he added, "But something is missing."

Her eyes fell, but his hand transferred to her chin, tilting it upwards to make her blue eyes meet his green. "I seem to recall reading something, oh, three hundred years ago or so-" his eyes crinkled with humor at mention of the 'senior citizen times a thousand' status Darcy often referred to, "about mistleltoe?"

Darcy's lips twisted into a pout, even as she tilted her cheek to lean further into his touch, her free hand snapping her fingers. "Knew I forgot something," she muttered. "Whatever will we do, my king?" She ended in a low murmur, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

"Until we procure some with all haste, I suppose we shall have to…pretend," Loki said with a shrug, bringing his other hand up between them and snapping his own fingers. With a gleam of green light that quickly died away, a sprig of mistletoe revealed itself, dangling from the archway they stood beneath.

"My oh my, Loki's a romantic," Darcy exclaimed, leaning in so their foreheads touched, bumping her nose gently against his. "Alert the media."

He caught her lips with his, both hands now gently cupping her face. With a small noise of contentment, she dropped the quill in her hand, fisting the lapels of his long coat in her hands to drag him closer. He responded with one hand leaving her face to twist itself into her thick curls, his feet edging her backwards and against the hallway's stone wall.

Straying from her mouth, his lips traced a line of kisses across her cheek and down her jaw line. When they reached her neck, her legs faltered beneath her and she leaned further into his frame for support, eyes shut.

A hand came behind her back to support her even as he pulled away, grinning apologetically. "That does remind me…Do we not have an envoy of said media arriving any minute now?"

Darcy groaned, pushing her face into his leather-clad chest and hitting it several times. "Noo," she murmured into his jacket's depths, even as a loud buzzing disrupted the quiet of the corridor. As she muttered something about bureaucrats and feeding the earthly newspaper monster, Loki reached for her back pocket, retrieving her phone while his other hand rubbing soothing circles against her side.

"It's only a few days," he said gently. "I scarcely want them here any more than you do, but what did everyone say to my ideas of a Loki-led dictatorship?" That drew a grin from her, even as she brought the vibrating gadget to her ear. "Hello, this is Ambassador Lewis."

A tinny voice sounded from the other end, on some rant about the logistics of the arrival of the team of journalists who would be covering the summit that started in Asgard in two days, and Darcy rolled her eyes. Loki's brows raised in disinterest, and he opted to amuse himself as she listened to the droning, dragging his lips across her temple and the ear that wasn't pressed to her cell phone. A sharp gasp from Darcy had her conversational partner asking if anything was wrong, and Darcy's eyes shut in consternation, grinning fiercely as Loki's hand wandered from her hip and along her ribcage.

"Everything's fine, I just, ah, stubbed my toe," she ground out into the phone. "Running around Asgard, you know, lots of errands to prepare for the…arrivals." Loki pulled back with a cheshire cat grin, and she slapped a reprimanding hand flat against his chest, smiling through her annoyance.

"Yes, sir. Yep. No, you can tell Secretary Jefferson that I am calling the shots here. There's a whole sort of etiquette to this realm, and suitable behavior is very different here." Loki's teeth grazed her ear, and she shuddered against him, the hand that was still against his chest clenching in the material there. "I sent over several documents on what to expect, and I'm not handling the fallout of one pigheaded politician's decision to burp in the midst of a meeting of this level." Never mind that burping was the soundtrack to Volstagg's life, and he attended most of their meetings. It was fun to keep Midgard on its toes. "You know what? If he doesn't have time to peruse the information I sent, that's his own problem. It won't be a sword at _my _throat. Tell the Secretary I'll see him when he gets here."

Tearing the phone from her ear and hurriedly ending the call, Darcy wrinkled her nose at the device. "They won't ever fire me, right?" Loki, who now had his hands fisted in the material of her shirt at her waist, tugged her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Of course not," he replied instantly. "Asgard would have no one else in your position." She smiled, pressing her face into his neck as he nuzzled against her hair. "You do, however, have a slight problem with back-talking figures of authority," he conceded into her ringlets, and she giggled into his shoulder. "Now, I suppose we should head to the Bifrost and ensure those reporters don't fall off, mm?"

"Would be a tragedy," Darcy agreed, making a face, and they turned as one to head down the hallway, a quick word from Darcy ensuring that a passing servant would spread the word to continue decorating where she'd left off. Loki tucked her into his side as they rounded the corner, and she gave a habitual nod of respect to a painting of Frigga hanging on the wall to her left before pulling out her phone to again double-check arrival times.

The Bifrost was the new Heathrow, and she'd just become the new head of Customer Service, she thought with a sigh.

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><p>Yggdrasil was no easy tree to climb, the dark one conceded; only certain gnarled branches were accessible by foot, the others requiring significantly more climbing finesse, and a bit of magic here and there.<p>

Up and up, across and around he went, navigating the roots and branches that fluctuated between shades of bright green and black, the passage of time nothing to him in his focus. Glimpses of the realms, times, and places he passed flickered past his vision as he climbed, battles both ongoing and long lost appearing and disappearing as he left their branches behind.

He licked his lips in anticipation of the meals ahead as he climbed. Muspel children, already charbroiled; Jötun children, like little popsicles for dessert; and Midgardian children, the main course, with their fat-filled diets plumping them up perfectly. The cheeks were the best part, he mused, cresting another large arc in Yggdrasil. It was a rare case indeed, when specimens of those varying sorts were gathered in one place, and it just so happened that he had heard tell of such a gathering, happening soon, in the golden realm.

Little did they know, they were supplying him with a fully-stocked buffet. And if the realms tore each other apart in the wake of his actions, what did he care? He'd have a full stomach and be ready for a nice, long nap.

Distracting himself with different recipes for cooking the children of different realms, he almost missed the limb he was looking for; with a sheen of gold covering the dark green moss, it was obviously the route to Asgard. Krampus grinned, a full set of knifelike fangs on display, and switched courses, heading for that path, and the door made of gold and bright oak at the end of it.

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><p>It was the second summit that Asgard had hosted since the new relations had begun after the siege of Hoder, and larger than the first. Darcy was not looking forward to it, but earth was really starting to feel the effects of resource consumption and global warming, and that was where Asgard would come in. The golden realm would act as a go-between, as Jötunheim had offered a potential partnership with Midgard, to help combat melting glaciers and warming oceans. It was risky, but the details that needed hammering out – no pun intended, though Thor would be there – were of the highest importance if Jötuns were to be granted access to earth.<p>

It was Thor's turn to act as king at the moment, but Darcy, Jane and Loki functioned as his thinking machine – some of the finer details in dealings like this had escaped him in the past, leaving them frantic to clean up behind him.

He and Jane were late, she noted with annoyance, glancing around the golden chamber and seeing only her assistants and the other representatives whose presence she'd requested – Freja was standing with arms crossed, bored, and the Warriors Three were debating amongst each other what would be on the banquet table tonight. Sif stood to one side, hand on the hilt of her sword, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with Darcy, whose contact, she had made clear, was utterly unacceptable, no matter if she was yawning or making out with Loki. Couldn't be friends with everyone, the ambassador had conceded a while ago, and she no longer took it personally. She had a job to do.

And so Darcy pasted a welcoming grin on her face from where she stood, just inside Heimdall's post at the Bifrost, ready to greet a platoon of reporters who would cover the event for Midgard. She was glad, in a way, that this summit had fallen on the calendar where it did – she'd extended an offer for diplomats and envoys to bring their families along, and let them experience Yuletide in Asgard. Hopefully the atmosphere would be a little cheerier, with small voices filling the halls alongside all the decorations she'd demanded.

Loki had extracted his arm from hers when they'd arrived at the Bifrost, disappointed at the absence of contact, but knowing they had to remain professional and above reproach while these new relations between the realms were still so new. The last thing he needed was an accusation of bewitching Midgard's live-in ambassador to his realm, really, and while they weren't in the habit of concealing their association around Asgard, it was agreed that they couldn't be all over each other when reporters and shrewd senators were breathing down their necks, looking for a loose thread to pull on.

The seasons in Asgard were an odd thing, the climate remaining fairly temperate all year round, but Freyr, an elderly scholar who had a knack for influencing such things, had been persuaded to concoct a "winter" of sorts for the summit. Really, Darcy had just wanted an excuse to wear cute coats and scarves, although she'd forgotten any such apparel in the rush of things today, and was shivering in the strong breeze that forever accompanied the Bifrost. Noticing her discomfort, Loki flicked his hand furtively, and one of Darcy's favorite peacoats, a deep green one, appeared on her. It was also his favorite, and he inclined his head with a wink at her smile of thanks.

"Any time now," Heimdall intoned, his overall attitude much less stoic than before the Coup. Loki liked to believe they might even be "bros", as Darcy often insisted they ought to be, after everything.

Shifting impatiently on his feet, Loki absently drew a dagger, flipping it in his hands in a whirlwind of movement that came easily to him. A throat cleared to his left after a moment, and Darcy arched her brows meaningfully when he looked to her, her eyes on the blade in his hand. "Might not be the best impression," she said. "Reporters are sharks, and you fiddling with a sharp weapon at first sight is gonna be blood in the water for 'em, Loke."

He smiled ruefully at her nickname for him, pocketing the weapon. He didn't understand her reference, but the gist of it was clear. She nodded in approval before seeming to remember something, patting at the pockets of her newly-summoned coat. "D'you know where I left my iPad? It has the roster on it…" A blink later and it was in her hands. "Never gonna get tired of that. Convenience, man…" She trailed off, scrolling swiftly through the device and pulling up the document she was looking for, just as the Bifrost jolted, brilliant golden light filling the dome they stood in.

"Merry Chr- I mean, seasons greetings!" She chimed weakly at the sight of a group of bewildered mortals, shakily regaining their feet and looking around wildly. One had to remain politically correct even in other realm, after all.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! ~Bon<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Sooo, I am well aware everyone wanted a little more hubba hubba, a little more oomph, between Loki and Darcy in Lithasblot and Old Lace. Well, realistically, if we think about the time table in that fic...I mean, it took place over maybe a week, and they didn't have a lot of spare time. So, I've explored their intimacy much more in this fic, Merry Christmas and Happy Yule, tasertricksters! **

**On a side note, I've toyed with how gruesome I want to get with Krampus and his _dealings _with the children, here, and I think I'm going to try and keep it a little more PG. That being said, Darcy and Loki happy time might bump up the rating. Also, Eir is back! Anyhoo, enjoy!**

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><p>Cameras were flashing, microphones being pulled out for unwilling Asgardian interviewees, and Darcy was already getting a headache. She'd made sure to identify everyone who arrived, and there were already attendees who hadn't been cleared. It was a red-taped nightmare.<p>

"Right, everyone?!" She called loudly, clapping to try to get their attention. When that didn't work, Loki, who'd stayed out of the limelight and was now pacing behind her, banged a newly-summoned Gungnir on the Bifrost to silence them all.

A dozen pairs of eyes turned her way, and she blushed, faltering. "Um, if you can all follow me – the palace where you'll be housed is this way…This is kind of the bus stop here, and you don't wanna be in the way." She turned and started striding briskly out of Heimdall's dome, rolling her eyes at an amused Loki as she passed. He fell into step behind her, and finally the carriages were in sight.

A journalist behind her squealed at the sight of perfectly-groomed Asgardian horses waiting to convey them to different areas of the palace, and Darcy tried to rein in her annoyance; everything was just old hat to her, at this point, and she'd been so amazed on her first visit, too. Trying to tap into that enthusiasm, she waved pairs of people into each awaiting conveyance, and when the last ones had set off, hooves clapping against the colorful stone, she heaved a sigh, slumping in on herself where she stood.

"That's the last of 'em," she said, ticking something off on her iPad with a swipe of a finger, and closing the screen with a clicking noise. "The next envoy is the journalists' children, and that's Idunn's problem, she _loves _'em. They'll be here within the hour."

"And now, your personal chariot awaits, milady," came Loki's voice, light with humor, and she turned to see him already mounted on a single horse that had waited behind, his personal mount. "Join me?" He asked, a hand proffered, and she didn't need to be asked twice, bounding up and grasping his cooler hand in her warm one.

He brought his other hand around, lifting her easily with it on her waist, and settled her in front of him, keeping one arm firmly around her and giving the horse a command with a click of his tongue. Edging backwards on the horse, Darcy leaned back into him, glad he kept the horse at a mere trot; it gave them a much more leisurely trip back to the palace, and he even had it take a scenic route through the gardens. Ipad cradled in her left hand, she kept her right linked with his, enjoying the quiet moments before the whirlwind of activity that was a diplomatic meeting began.

"Your room?" Loki asked quietly, and she nodded, running a hand through her hair. "Gotta get ready for the introduction dinner, and make sure of our timetable for the arrival of the _important _people tomorrow."

"You'll wear the green lace, right?" He asked, a smile in his voice, and Darcy pretended to consider. "Hmm, that thing that I had made that I've never had an excuse to wear? I guess I could give it a go."

When he helped her down outside the garden arbor that led to her set of rooms, she blew him a kiss, removing her coat as she headed inside. A chilly wind blew right across her as soon as the coat was off, and she stopped short, hesitantly glancing around. It wasn't her fault, but she'd maintained some of the more cautionary tics she'd picked up as a result of being embroiled in the Coup, as it was simply referred to these days. Squaring her shoulders when nothing appeared, she continued inside, boots rapping quietly against the flagstone. Reaching her room, she pulled out the be-spelled stone that served as her key, so no one but Loki, if he had a mind to, had access, and waved it across the latch.

The door creaked ajar and she gave it a shove, throwing her coat on the first available surface, a wingback chair just inside the room. She called a greeting to Muninn, the raven who'd taken up residence with her, dozing peacefully on his perch high in a corner of the room, and he gave a sleepy caw in reply. He'd been up as late as her for the past several nights, keeping her company as she perfected the plans for the meetings, and she supposed it had taken more of a toll on the bird. Either that, or he was being a lazy bum and didn't want to attend tonight's dinner.

She'd had the pick of anything in the realm for furnishing her rooms, the ones that had previously been Frigga's, a fact that half-bothered her at any given moment. She was assured the woman would be proud to know who held her space now, but it was still weird, and so she'd changed most of the furniture, and the color scheme, everything taking on a bluish tinge, instead of the rose and cream of Frigga's space.

Flopping onto her bed, draped in cheerful mint coverings, Darcy pried her boots off, her jeans and blouse following them to the ground. If anyone in Asgard still found her clothes odd, they'd never mentioned it, and she _swore _she'd spotted Fandral wearing clingy black skinny jeans one night. Darting to the generously-sized walk-in closet, she rifled through several bars of eveningwear, a sort of clothing she now boasted a lot of, thanks to her ambassadorial position. Finally, with a ha! of triumph, she found the lace confection Loki had mentioned. She had lost a significant amount of weight after the Coup, and it had stayed away, to the dismay of her old wardrobe, but everything in here always fit perfectly.

The dress in question was a long-sleeved form-fitting thing, knee-length with solid layers of frilly green on the torso and skirt, the sleeves just a single, clinging layer of lace that tapered to her wrists. She brought it out to the main room, glancing between it and the bath chamber, wondering if there was time. Hastily pulling her hair up with a clip, she decided on a quick shower, and ten minutes later was pinning her wayward curls into some semblance of a chignon.

The dress, she decided, need one last bit of something, and so she added a thin, black belt around her ribs, tightening it and stepping up to her floor-length mirror. When she'd done all she could with her appearance, she sighed, retrieving the iPad she'd also carelessly tossed aside, staring at it hard. Did she _need _to work tonight? Setting it aside, she then surveyed her phone, wondering just _how _late the current king of Asgard and his lady were going to be.

"Janeee," she groaned, picking it up and checking for any messages. "Killing me, girl," she continued to herself, seeing nothing. Sending a quick message of her own – R U READY? - she locked the phone, patting her person to check for any pockets, of which she knew there'd be none. "Okayy, bra or…" She muttered, having no clue where she could store the device. There would be mead consumption tonight, she was sure, and didn't want to have to deal with a clutch or purse amidst everything else. Shoving it into the side of her neckline, she hoped it wasn't too visible, and called it good, sliding on some sling-back black heels before making for the banquet hall.

She'd had a bit of say in the remodeling, because apparently no one in Asgard had any clue what a welcoming color scheme was, and gold was the default décor of intimidation. The realm had to appear on fairly even footing with its counterparts if any of this was going to work – the Coup had done that, at least, brought Asgard down a few notches – and so Darcy had recommended a lighter color code, the walls in the main dining hall now a warm tan.

The effect was nice, she thought, reflecting candle and sconce light well as she entered. All of the guests had first been distributed to their rooms to freshen up and direct how their luggage would be dealt with, and so she was one of the first to arrive, servants bustling to and fro, various Asgardians wandering around to direct the proceedings.

She tugged unconsciously at the hem of her dress before approaching Fandral, who looked dashing as always, in a gold leather jerkin tonight over tight brown leather breeches. "Evening, Robin Hood," she said in greeting, and he grinned, acknowledging the nickname with a dramatic bow that almost sent his sword scabbard knocking over a collection of tankards behind him. Darcy laughed at the spectacle he made, Volstagg chastising him fiercely over his "assault of the very things that will supply us with _mead_", Hogun respectfully silent behind them as always.

Rounding the other end of the table, Darcy suddenly felt warmed from head to toe, and knew he had spotted her. "You're doing it again," she called, waggling a finger in warning as she approached Loki. The trickster was leaned casually against a pillar, one knee crooked back so his boot propped against it, arms folded as he monitored the hall's activity.

"Doing what?" He inquired with such an expression of innocence that Darcy had the urge to pinch his cheek. She couldn't easily reach it, anyways, even in these heels, and she settled for positioning herself next to him, folding her own arms across her chest. The gesture enunciated her neckline, and she could feel his appreciative gaze like a physical touch. "Not now, buddy," she warned playfully. "Tonight, we have to chaperone!"

"Remind me again why this event is so ill-timed?" His normally-fluid tones were petulant and whining, childlike, and she elbowed him gently. "Because there's this complicated thing called a fiscal year back on Midgard, and basically big decisions have to get made before the year is out. We're reaching crisis mode back there, in terms of resources and environmental strife, so we have to step in and offer intergalactic aid, otherwise this partnership's headed south pretty quickly."

He stopped listening after the first few words, enjoying the feel of her arm and shoulder brushing against his, but he nodded thoughtfully when she finished. "Ah, I remember."

Several high-pitched squeals sounded, then, ricocheting off the ornate walls of the hall, and Darcy braced herself. Asgard was not particularly accustomed to children being around – the amount of time it took to age into an adult was nothing to an Asgardian lifespan, and there just never seemed to be anyone in the growing stages. She hoped it wasn't awkward.

A pack of five children raced into sight, three boys and two girls, and she felt Loki shift beside her. Darting a sideways glance at him, she saw his brows were raised, tracking the children's progress as they gasped and circled the banquet tables, already being heaped with food.

"Afraid of cooties?" She teased, bumping her hip against his with a wide smile. He looked at her, eyes warming as he met her smile. "Nothing frightens the god of mischief and trickery," he said ominously, as if reciting a passage from one of the old tomes in Eir's library. He probably was.

The Healer herself chose then to enter, and Darcy quickly called her over with a gleeful shout. She'd missed the Healer, who had stayed behind on Earth when Darcy had returned to Asgard to set up shop. She'd done something with her hair, Darcy noted as the ageless Healer approached – was that _highlights? _– and Darcy embraced her with a squeal of her own.

"You are looking marvelous, Lady Darcy," Eir said, holding her at arms' length and studying her frame from head to toe. "You haven't been sneaking into Idunn's orchard, have you?"

Darcy gave a crooked smile at the implication, shaking her head. "Drastic life decisions happen one at a time, and few and far between, for me. I've filled my quote for a bit," she assured the Healer, taking the chance to eye Eir's own garb. She was wearing – well, a lot of strings of beads, and some sort of drapey tunic-dress, belted with…Oh, god, yarn? "You, uh, look like you spent your vacation time well?"

"Oh yes," Eir replied in her soothing tones. "California quite agreed with me."

"Ah-ha," Darcy said in realization, pasting a smile on her face and trying not to laugh at the obviously-hippie turn the Healer's immortal life had taken. "Right, well, we have strategic seating arrangements tonight, let me show you…" She took Eir's arm, leading her to her place, and Loki finally let loose the snort of laughter he'd been holding in since Eir appeared, propelling himself from the pillar and finding his own place, dodging running children as he did so.

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><p>A more pleasing turnout than he had hoped for, thought Krampus, peering out at the festivities from a floor-level grate in the banquet hall. The trickster was not the only one who could wander undetected, and this shadow-lover had several tricks up his sleeve to do so.<p>

Cat-like yellow eyes peered eagerly from his perch, searching, until they landed on a few of the specimens he was looking for. His claws reached for the grating before he remembered himself, pulling back and settling for drinking in the sight of squealing mortal children, chasing each other through the banquet hall before the proceedings began.

A small, red-sneakered foot crossed his vision, close, so very close that were the thin metal screen not in his way, he could have reached out and snatched the small ankle as it passed by. Soon, he placated himself, soon. Tonight, in fact. The chaos of new arrivals, and the allure of a new place, would easily disguise his actions. The children would go exploring and simply not return. It was perfect, he thought, knitting his claws together.

A sudden loud call summoned the guests to order, and everyone began taking seats as ordered by cursive-lettered cue cards at each place setting. The woman in charge seemed to be a mortal, he thought with disdain, eyeing the curvy brunette as she stood next to the mischief god. They were clueless and unorganized, despite the roster he'd seen her monitoring earlier; it would easy to mask his activities with poor planning on her part, of course.

The shaggy, charcoal-colored fur that adorned his body stood on end for a moment as he froze. The trickster was blinking confusedly, his gaze roaming the hall, and as they glanced over the hiding place of the monster, iridescent yellow eyes clamped shut, trying to conceal their gleam. After a moment, they cinched open again, pleased that the trickster seemed not to have found whatever had him looking about suddenly.

With a low, growling chuckle, Krampus quietly edged backwards, burrowing further into the unused catacombs that ran beneath the castle. Soon, he would strike.

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><p>The only hiccup so far had been some reporter's loud dismay that there was so much <em>meat <em>on the table, and they were vegetarian, and they disapproved _so _strongly, blah, blah, blah. Darcy had intervened, wondering when the hell she became a public relations agent on top of her other duties, shoving potatoes, salad, and anything else she could find towards the complaining woman. Then she'd switched Fandral's seat with the woman's neighbor, assuring her that the swashbuckler would attend to any and all of her needs at dinner tonight. Fandral's face had been priceless as the dowdy, older woman had smiled coquettishly, abandoning her complaints in favor of batting her lashes at her new companion.

_Finally_, Jane and Thor had arrived via a private Bifrost trip, taking their own paired seats at the other end of the table, Thor quickly grabbing a tankard of mead and downing it.

The mead was flowing steadily, and several of the mortals had probably had too much, but maybe that would guarantee her some good publicity back home, Darcy thought, gesturing for a serving-girl to fill up every goblet in sight. She was feeling pleasantly light-headed herself, her chair inching closer to Loki's after every few sips, until she could reach out her hand under the table and link their fingers.

At a height in conversational loudness in the room, she leaned closer to him, speaking sidelong. "How much longer before we call it, d'you think? I mean, am I a legit hostess? Why isn't Jane the hostess? Do hostesses, like, hostess til the end or?"

"I think perhaps you could feign fatigue and retire, and I, as a gentleman, could escort you to your room," Loki shot back, quaffing the remaining contents of his own goblet, and waggling his brows at her over the rim.

"You're right!" She squealed, looking around for someone sober who could take over. "Freja!" The chief of the Valkyries was at her side in a moment, her eyes unclouded by alcohol. "Darce?" The Asgardian asked quietly, leaning in to hear Darcy's request.

"D'you think you could take over, um, direct everyone and stuff? I have a…headache, you know, preparations and stress and stuff," Darcy managed to only half-slur. The Valkyrie, who'd become fast friends with the former intern, nodded, lips curling upward in a half-grin as she looked from Darcy to Loki. "Sure thing, Darce. You go rest up."

Clasping her hands together in thanks, Darcy stood, somewhat unsteadily; she'd clearly stress-chugged more mead than she'd thought, eyeing the three empty tankards at her place. A steadying hand was on her elbow in an instead, the cool presence of Loki at her side instantly.

"You're like a spiritual mint," she muttered drunkenly, a giggle leading to a hiccup fit as he led her swiftly from the table. "I've no idea what that means, but I shall endeavor to accept it as a compliment," Loki assured her, switching hands and latching an arm around her waist as she wobbled dangerously. Tugging her to his side once they had cleared the banquet hall, he paused, looking up and down the hallway. "My room or yours, Milady?"

Darcy was already prying insistently at the leather straps adorning the chest of his Asgardian finery, forehead crinkled as she tried to work out the fastenings amidst the haze of mead in her system. "'S long as you kick the ravens out," she muttered. "Creepy to have them in the room."

"Huginn retired to the aviary earlier today, he assured me," Loki said with a low laugh, tugging her closer.

"How you talk to birds is beyond me," she said with a shrug, eagerly falling into his embrace. A flick of a wrist later, and they were in his chambers, the four-poster bed with its olive-green coverings looking more than tempting, and she jabbed a finger in its direction eagerly.

"I think someone's fairly intoxicated," came Loki's low reprimand as he rested his chin on her head, holding her in place for a moment. She reached a hand upward, an automatic response that aimed to straighten her glasses indignantly, something she still hadn't gotten out of her system since her myopia had been magically cured. "I am _not_," she whined, flattening her palms against the material on his shoulders and slowly dragging them downward. "You're just…wearing too many clothes."

"Oh, and the fabric is clouding my judgment, I imagine?" He asked, humoring her unsteady words.

"Yep, judging your cloudment," she said breathily, leaning up on her tiptoes, her fingers skipping across his chest to again try tackling the ins and outs of his outfit. As she stretched up, he leaned down, skimming his mouth down her cheek and to the juncture of neck and shoulder.

"Well, maybe your own apparel is affecting _yours_," he breathed against her skin, Darcy's hands faltering, fingers clenching into the leather.

"Yes, you're right," she huffed into his shoulder, as his hands moved from her hips to her ribs, swiftly unfastening the belt that cinched around her waist, and tossing it aside. "Constricting."

His hands moved back up her sides, pausing, puzzled, when they met resistance near the top of her ribs. "What…"

"Oh, phone," she assured him dismissively, tugging the device from her bosom and shrugging before throwing it towards a side table, glad it had been magically enhanced against breakage. "Your turn, tricky," she whispered, tugging at the lapels of his coat, and he shrugged it off, leaving him in the crisscrossed leather of his tunic.

His hands reached for the zipper of her dress, carefully pulling the pins from her mane of curls as he went, moving the locks aside before tugging at the metal fixture that fastened the lace around her like a glove. She leaned closer, their lips meeting as he peeled the material from her shoulders and gently down her arms. The dress finally ended in a heap on the floor, and he walked her out of its folds and towards the wall. Left in her heels and a thin black shift, she cut quite the figure, and his hands roamed down her sides, gripping her waist and lifting her onto a side table.

Darcy moaned loudly as his lips left hers, her legs moving to cage him between her thighs as he left a trail of hot kisses down her neck. Her hands tore at the tunic he wore, and suddenly it was gone, her eyes greeted by the pale chest that could've been carved from marble, and the sharp-cut shoulders forever accentuated by the damn coats he chose to wear. That left him in tight leather trousers that did little to conceal his desire for her, and her own loose shift was feeling pretty confining.

Darcy's breath hitched anew when a long-fingered hand slipped beneath the hem of her slip, creeping slowly up her thigh. "Loki," she mumbled breathlessly. "Bed. Now."

He finally raised his head, attention diverted from lavishing her neck with bites that were soon after soothed by his tongue. "What's that, darling?" He asked with a wicked grin, and the ensuing frustration heated her body even more. She scooted forward, encasing him even closer between her legs, locking her ankles around him as her lips sought his jaw line.

The teasing stopped when his own breathing was too ragged for words, Darcy's plump lips capturing anything he might have said as they wandered down the pale column of his throat. With a quick gesture, they were on the bed, Darcy pressed back into the sheets with her legs still pinning him to her.

"Door is locked, right," she brought up, words catching in her throat as his wandering hand found what it was looking for. A choked gasp of pleasure was caught by his lips, returning to hers, as his other hand pulled at the straps of her slip. A gleam of green flashed in the corner of the room where the door was located, and she was assured, before his distracting hand stole her attention. "Now it is," he spoke against her lips, as her hands helped him divest them of the silk and leather barriers between their bodies.

* * *

><p>In the early hours of the morning, a heavy banging at the door to Loki's quarters had Darcy mumbling incoherently, begrudgingly raising her head from the pillow as his arm unwrapped itself from around her, and he quickly summoned clothes before answering it. Groggily, she propped herself up on an elbow on the pillow, blinking furiously to regain enough consciousness to understand what was happening.<p>

Loki shared quick words with what sounded like Freja, uncharacteristically ruffled, and then he was closing the door, pinching the bridge of his nose as he crossed the room to return to the bed.

"What's up?" She asked sleepily, curling back into his side as he laid back down, a frown on his face. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, his eyes on the ceiling.

"It seems one of the Midgardian children has wandered off in the night. They're certain he was just exploring and took a wrong turn, but apparently one of the children is insisting a monster is to blame, that they saw it."

"Probably just a nightmare because they're in a strange new place. Freja has organized a search?" Darcy asked, and he nodded, pressing a kiss to her hair. "If there is any trouble, I'll sort out a locator spell. In the meantime…" He drawled, easing her onto her back and trailing his mouth from her neck to her décolletage, "I think my skills are needed elsewhere."

* * *

><p>It had been easy, far too easy, almost disappointing, really, the monster reflected, eyeing the quivering bundle of burlap that was lying in his impromptu lair, whimpering intermittently.<p>

One falsified call from what the child had perceived as its mother, with a treat for it, and the boy had come running, disregarding the worried calls of its peers. Naughty, naughty. That required punishment, responding to bait like that.

Krampus licked his lips, looking over the size of his catch, housed within its sack for the time being, and decided that it was not enough to consume yet. No, he could make a nice stew with several, their bones giving the broth that extra something, and he could ration better that way.

He would wait for the official groups to arrive, and with them, some exotic flavors, he thought, running a forked tongue of one of his lengthy claws, still tasting of the contact with the child as he'd snatched it from the corridor.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! ~Bon<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi, guys. Absolutely distraught about the delay here - it couldn't be helped.**

**I've been angry - very, very angry at an anonymous review blatantly accusing me of plagiarism of this plot and its key figures. To the lovely individual gifted with being the target of my rage, I say this: I have no clue to which works you are referring, whether they are other fics or published works, and I have purposely remained in the dark on the matter you refer to, so that I remain even further above reproach on the subject of having stolen those plotlines. Whatever you may think, I know my ideas come from my own head. Also, I believe mythology and deities fall under public domain - another point for me, even if I had prior knowledge of whatever material you were referring to. **

**It's been near-impossible to write with that cloud over my head, and I only find the motivation now so that I might finish this project. though it may not be coherent. I hate leaving things undone, but I think after this I am also announcing my retirement from writing fanfiction. It's time, I think, given recent developments in my life, anyhow. It's not paying the bills, and scathing remarks made by anonymous cowards are absolutely counter-conducive to my writing process. I could filter out said comments, I know this, but they would still have their nasty ideas, even if left unsaid - and so I prefer to take the smoother way out and simply stop feeding them altogether.**

**I thank those of you who have been so awesome with encouraging remarks and followed my work. Hopefully I can wrap this up quickly and move on. XOXO.**

* * *

><p>It was a rushed Darcy Lewis who barely managed to precede a combined crowd of realm diplomats and reporters into the council chambers where the details of the new partnership between Earth and Jötunheim would be decided upon. At least today wasn't one of the main days, those were still to come. Running her fingers through her thick mane to tame it into some semblance of respectability, she quickly ordered coffee, water, and wine to be brought to the room, tugging her blouse into compliance under the blazer she'd thrown on. It was a constant effort to remind herself to dress nicely, not in the henleys, leggings and sweaters she'd often sported as a mere intern. The Asgardian Walk of Shame she'd done this morning hadn't helped the impulse to throw on a sweater and hide.<p>

Sliding into a chair near the head of the table, where Thor would sit as overseer of these negotiations, she elbowed Jane, her neighbor, nodding towards the empty place. "Where's the big guy?"

Jane blushed, reshuffling the paperwork she'd been perusing. "He needed to, uh, refuel. What's _your _excuse for tardiness? This is your show."

"Pardon me, Madame Science, but while we were probably engaged in the same extracurricular activities, _I _am here, while your manwich is not." Darcy narrowed her eyes in a brief, playful glare at Jane, then made a show of turning her nose up and delving into her own paperwork. Scheduled trips of Jötun envoys into Midgard, when they would arrive and where and who would be going…Consultations with every Scandinavian country, as frontrunners in sustainable resource storage and use…Evaluations of the arctic circle and glacial formations near the north and south poles…Climate change and global warming were no longer an issue for her, but the situation back on Earth was very real and grave. If Jötunheim would help, several centuries of damage could be undone.

Sneaking a peek at Jane's paperwork, Darcy was glad she was just more of a referee for these talks. Jane would be involved in attempting to tailor routes the Bifrost could take, limiting Jötunheim's access until a true trust was achieve. There couldn't be ice blade-wielding giants running amok in Seattle or Shanghai. As such, Jane's file was about eight times as thick as Darcy's. Yikes.

At last, Freja was entering, swinging open both weighty doors with little visible effort, leading in a mixed group of Vanites, Muspels, and Jötuns. After the Midgardian envoy that Idunn had greeted was squared away in the guest quarters the evening before, Freja had met a late group of other-realmly guests, those who were here today. It was agreed that for neutrality's sake, given that the negotiations were taking place on Asgard, a few different realms would be invited, for a variance in ideas and input. At the far end of the table, Hogun greeted the Vanites, and Darcy was glad as ever for his quiet presence, which guaranteed a friendly reception for at least some of their guests. The Fire-dwellers and Ice-wielders, however… She rose with a quiet sigh, moving to the end of the room and guiding the representatives of Muspelheim to seats, and then those from Jötunheim. Seats had been chosen in different areas of the room, to stunt any funny ideas the two realms might entertain again.

When Darcy sat down after showing Surtur where to go, she noticed her left hand had clenched painfully into a fist. With effort, she pried it open again, stretching her now-cramped fingers and forcing herself to take a deep breath. Old wounds opened easily, she found, and phantom pains in her abdomen still twinged when she saw either of the elemental demons who'd tried to take the golden realm. And it was simply awkward to see someone like Surtur, king of the fire giants, in a business setting.

A booming laugh sounded from the doorway, and Jane and Darcy smiled simultaneously at the sight of Thor's big blonde head entering. He lightened the mood instantly, never appearing awkward or sheepish at the sight of the same beings who'd put Darcy so on edge, and she was grateful when his calming presence was seated at the head of the table, and they could begin.

Kvasir had quietly accompanied the servers of refreshment into the room, and now slid a goblet of coffee towards Darcy, perfectly prepared to her liking. She mouthed a thank-you at him, and he gestured at the scribe to start recording the meeting. Darcy was proud she'd upgraded the ancient Asgardian to a Macbook, and his fingers lay ready to document their progress. She pulled her iPad across the table and unlocked it, cradling her coffee close.

* * *

><p>He and Darcy had lingered in bed that morning for as long as possible, she regretting her post aloud and wondering if anyone could cover for her, he hoping Freja or Sif would solve their own problems and find the little one that had run off. At last, she'd pried herself loose from his arms, sneaking off to her own rooms to shower and change, and he'd made for his "evil lab", as Darcy called it, where his magical supplies and books were kept.<p>

Rummaging through dried herbs, vibrant powders, and old tomes smelling strongly of the calfskin most of them were bound in, he'd finally found the scroll he was looking for – a grizzled old thing, something he was embarrassed to have to use, feeling like one of the shady sorcerers in old Midgardian films. But he couldn't remember the spell quite by heart, frowning when he realized he'd have to obtain one of the child's belongings to piece together the enchantment. When everything else was sorted, he slipped into the corridor, wondering how best to get into the Earth envoy's quarters. It wouldn't look good if he were caught, so he slipped on a cloaking spell, striding briskly across the grounds to the wing where guests were housed.

But which child? He wondered, spotting a chaperone leading two little girls by the hands around the gardens. It was clear that one of the girls was mortal, and one had the look of a Vanite, judging by its dress. Darcy had said something about the children being escorted to activities all together, to promote good realm relations from early ages. Freja had said the missing child was a little boy, but he'd have to know the particulars to attempt any magical tracking. When the little Vanite girl mischievously slipped away and headed towards the stables, he followed, switching his illusion to the visage of the chaperone, whom she'd recognize and trust.

The little girl wandered inside, squealing at the horses gleefully, earning herself a knicker of condescension or two in return. Magical horses were egotistical at best, he thought, wondering if he'd learned from the best.

"Now, now!" He crowed in the chaperone's nasally tones, earning a start and gasp of fear from the little girl. "What are you doing there?"

"Wanted to see the ponies," the little Vanite muttered, toeing at the dirt with her shoe.

"Don't you know little children shouldn't wander off alone?" Loki scolded in the woman's voice. "Why, one has already gone missing! Do you know about that, little one?"

The girl nodded, tugging at her lower lip with her teeth, fidgeting under the scrutiny. "Do you?" Loki insisted, putting hands on hips and staring until the girl responded.

"Yes, they said a Middian, Timmy Fairfield, met the boogeyman!" The girl finally exclaimed. Loki hoped he was interpreting "Middian" as "Midgardian" correctly. Childspeak was not one of the languages his silver tongue took to easily. "I don't wanna see the boogeyman, just the horsies…"

"Who are poor Timmy's parents?" Loki continued, coming closer and switching his gaze to appraise the horses. "Tell me, and I'll let you see the horses, girlie."

"His mom's from the Inker, or something," the girl said. "We had playtime together yesterday." Loki optimistically interpreted the word as "Inquirer", one of the papers he'd been told was coming to cover the talks. He smiled, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder and seeing the chaperone wandering in their direction, calling for the little girl.

"What's your name?" His disguise asked. "Luna," came the small reply, as the girl stood on tiptoes to try to see over the stall edges.

Quickly he hefted her up to the level of the horses' stalls, letting her pet his favorite, the friendly chestnut who'd taken a liking to Darcy.

A quick memory spell later, and the girl was dashing back to her escort, knowing only that she'd petted one of the pretty horses. He didn't need another moniker of "child predator" hanging about his head.

Loki was eyeing the guest tower where he'd heard from a servant that the Inquirer woman was housed, standing back and grimacing as he thought of how best to steal a toy or something of the boy's. As if on cue, a nasally caw sounded from behind him, preceding the rough landing of Huginn on his shoulder with a jab to his cheek.

"Come to make yourself useful, is that it?" He muttered, disgruntled, as the raven roughly steadied himself, claws renting the leather cloaking Loki's shoulder. It responded with another rough caw, nearly deafening in its proximity, and he winced.

Raven and trickster eyed the tower for a few quiet moments, before Loki spoke as if wondering a thought aloud, only. "I wonder if a raven has the skill to get up there, to Timothy Fairfield's room, and retrieve me something small of his? Probably not, mm?"

Huginn, always more proud than Muninn, shuffled across Loki's neck and shoulder blades to the other side of his face, clacking his beak loudly as if in protest. "What's that, Huginn?" Loki questioned distractedly, turning to leave. The raven alighted from his shoulder, flapping upwards to circle the trickster, annoyed. With one more caw it shot off towards the tower, Loki grinning in the wake of the black bird's desire to prove itself. They were the most intelligent beings of his acquaintance, if not in the realm entire, and he knew it, but the crankier of the two always required goading to accomplish anything of consequence.

Forty-five seconds later, black talons were dropping a single sock into his outstretched hand. The sight of the small garment, not only bereft of its partner but its wearer as well, cut him with a moment of sorrow, though he didn't know why. The child had to be stuck in a tree on the grounds or in some other foolish circumstance, that was all. Huginn cawed softly, uncharacteristically landing on Loki's shoulder and nuzzling briefly against the side of his head. "I know," the trickster said quietly, clenching his fist around the small garment.

Another caw sounded then, and Loki raised his head to see Muninn hurtling towards them, and what looked like a note clenched in his talons. Loki's brow furrowed in confusion as the raven dropped the message into his other outstretched hand, and he quickly recognized Darcy's hand, having written "WIFI IS OUT?" in large block letters.

His ragged sigh was audible across the grounds.

* * *

><p>Juggling a raven on each shoulder, Loki magically wiped the shred of paper, magicking the letters "Child Search priority. See you soon" on it. Muninn snatched it up with another caw, launching off. Loki watched his progress with some concern; something had to have interfered with the "router" of sorts he'd concocted for Darcy and her technical gadgets, and interfered quite strongly.<p>

A flash of magic later and he was back in his quarters, wincing at the scent of the locator spell's combined ingredients. If all went as planned, the concoction would burn off a small red cloud, which would drift in the direction of the intended target.

But it didn't do that. The spell burned successfully with a snap of Loki's fingers, but the resultant occurrence was…A sort of sigh, and a small puff of white-ish smoke. That was all, and it quickly dissipated into the still air. It was not meant to do that…

"Gods," Loki hissed, an uncomfortable chill spreading through his veins. That indicated the target was…nowhere. Not in existence, if the tome whose pages he now tore through was to be believed. Swiping a hand through his black locks, Loki's eyes rose to blankly appraise the opposite wall. It just didn't make sense. Maybe he ought to try another spell? But there wasn't time –

A knocking on his quarters' doors had him whipping around, curtly calling for the knocker to enter. Kvasir entered, pale and shaky even for him. "What is it?" Loki asked, eyes narrowing.

"Sire, we- we checked the, ah, installment you made to accommodate Lady Darcy and the other Midgardians' little gadgets – it's wrecked, Sire. The enchanted wires – shredded, the core orb smashed completely."

"That's impossible," Loki said dismissively, moving to turn back to his books. But it wasn't, not if something large had the mind to do such a thing…

"I am not mistaken, Sire – it has been vandalized, and the Midgardians are demanding Lady Darcy bring back the Fi-wi."

"Fenris?" Loki uttered the two syllables as a question, and Kvasir frowned, stepped further into the room. "I think not, Milord; the wolf has not been seen, nor would he have any excuse to behave like a rampaging beast in such a…targeted manner…Nor does he have access to the North Tower, without anyone seeing him."

His assistant was right, but nothing was making sense to Loki at the moment. "Kvasir, lead me to the council's meeting room."

* * *

><p>Kvasir, in the lead, skidded to a halt just as the double doors slammed open, yells and people streaming out and pooling aimlessly in the hallway. The green robes of a Vanite messenger caught Loki's eye, and he caught the young brunette female by the arm. "What is happening?"<p>

"One of the Vanir elite who is here today – his son is missing," the messenger hissed, pulling her elbow from Loki's grip. "He has disappeared from one of the groups touring the grounds today, while the meetings took place."

Loki's numb fingers fell to his side, and he froze, something prickling at the edge of his consciousness. Everything in the hall stilled, and he turned slowly, scanning the hectic corridor. There it was – another flash of…it had to be magic. Something old, smelling slightly moldy like the pages of an ancient book. But nothing in the hallway appeared out of place – everyone was far too busy wondering what was going on, and then Volstagg appeared, bellowing.

"Loki! The Midgardian state Secretary – whatever he is called – he is arrived, and the rest of the Vanaheim envoy."

"Please tell me there are no children with them," Loki replied absently, pacing towards the large Asgardian and glancing from floor to ceiling of the corridor.

"He has his entire family with him, and the Vanites have a few young…" Before Loki could reply, an outraged yell sounded from the end of the hall, a mortal woman shoving through the crowd, hair askew, pen and recorder forgotten in her hand.

"You!" She screeched at someone, and the crowd parted to reveal Darcy, rubbing the shoulder of a Vanite woman she'd been talking to.

"Volstagg, alert Heimdall. No one else enters, even if they were scheduled for the talks," Loki whispered furtively to the larger man, and an instant later was teleported to Darcy's side, just as the mortal woman lunged with a scream. He caught the woman by her wrists, gritting his teeth with the effort of not harming her.

"My boy is missing! Where is he?! They just told me – all night, and now -!"

"Ms. Fairfield, calm yourself-" Loki managed, and the woman writhed in his grip like an angry cat. "it's all her fault – where is the security here?!" The mortal journalist continued, staring daggers at Darcy as she still tried to get to her.

"Ms. Fairfield – we – we were alerted to a possible missing boy, but- the situation was being handled-" Darcy stumbled over her words, eyes filling with horror as she met Loki's. "He's still not been found?" As Loki grimaced in response, Darcy was already turning pale. With a quick jerk of his head, Loki and the woman were gone, hopefully to Eir or the healer's wing for a sedative.

"Oh god, another? Are there – are there like Asgardian child predators?" Darcy was hissing in a sidelong whisper to Kvasir, who'd made it to her side, even as she backed away from the crowd. "Never mind," she amended, cutting him off. Raising her arms, one of whose hands was still clutching her iPad, Darcy waved them frantically to silence the hall. "Everyone, please! Quiet!"

When the confused and panicked crowd grew quieter – it helped that no more reporters were screaming and trying to attack her – Darcy spoke. "It has come to my attention that there are…members of our party who are…unaccounted for. In light of this, I am issuing a temporary curfew and lockdown, just as a precaution…" Voices rose in the hallway again at the term "lockdown" – "You are to return to your rooms, staying in groups – at least pairs – and await further instruction. When I know what is happening, you will know. Please, just calm yourselves and be patient. I'm sure the confusion of a new place just has some a little misguided." With a flick of her wrist, Darcy had Kvasir and a few of his staff marshalling the milling crowd like sheep, herding them down separate halls and back to their rooms.

The ambassador collapsed back against the wall with a gasping sigh, and Jane finally wound her way through the crowd to Darcy's side. "Thor left to speak to Heimdall," Jane whispered, the corridor quieting as people left.

"What the hell is going on? I thought we had this all planned out. Who brings their kids to an alien realm anyway?!" Darcy's tone was angry, and Jane caught the glint of a fallen tear. "I'm going to take the fall for this," she said through a voice clogged with tears. "Even if they just wandered off and it was a misunderstanding – this is my fault, I should have better organized a galavant around a strange place for so many people – and reporters are so curious and everyone's just roaming free and I didn't _think_-"

"Shh, Darce, it's okay," Jane soothed, pulling in her former intern for a tight hug. "You're not the ruler of Asgard, you're not the one who was babysitting those kids – you have a lot on your plate, and they've got to understand that. I'm sure the kids will be found soon, and there'll be nothing to worry about."

As Jane spoke, she caught Thor's eyes, the burly king heading down the hall in their direction. He didn't look happy, and as Jane pulled back, Darcy sniffled, turning and spotting him. "What's happening?"

* * *

><p>So, the timetable had moved up. What was wrong with bingeing from the start? The beast wondered, eyeing the now-three wriggling bundles lying prostrate on the cold stone. The trickster would be wondering why his tracking spells wouldn't work, and the mortals why their little lighted books could not be used to communicate – the perfect panicked soundtrack to a delicious meal. Earth magick and brute strength were both concepts Loki, God of Mischief could never hope to understand, and he would not know the children's presences were merely masked until it was too late, and they were toothpicks made of bone for Krampus.<p>

A pleased growl escaped the curling lips, the eyes glinting despite the near-darkness of the catacombs. More of the ignorant had arrived, too, and with children, if the fat viking was to be believed – he would pluck them like chickens from an unguarded pen. Clawed fingers stretched and tapped along the stone walls of his lair as he contemplated his next move. Maybe he ought to make an exception – garnish his meal with an adult or two.

Voices shook him from his reverie, and he was gladdened the children's mewls and auras were muted by his magick. Shrill tones sounded from above, seeping through the grate that led to the corridors above. "That's three kids missing in one day. Something's wrong. Find me Freja, now, and gather the Valkyries. God… Oh my god. What are we going to do?" The voices faded away, and the beast steepled his fingers, eyes crinkling in satisfaction.

They would believe, now.


End file.
